


Babel

by Sheepie



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Co-Dependency, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of miscarriage, Miscarriage, Panic Attacks, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Established Relationship, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Scent Marking, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 11:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13810134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepie/pseuds/Sheepie
Summary: Eggsy and Harry are rescued after being tortured for six months.Harry can't be separated from Eggsy. Every alpha instinct in him screams to protect his omega. And the moment someone tries to separate Harry from him, he goes into a rampage. Eggsy is no better. Unable to cope with being away from Harry, Eggsy struggles to find himself again and return to being the agent he once was. But every time he's away from Harry, he breaks down into a horrible panic attack.Merlin knows the physical wounds will heal, but the psychological ones? Those will take so much longer. And with Arthur breathing down his neck, Merlin fears that the road to recovery for both Harry and Eggsy is going to be much harder than any of them could imagine.





	Babel

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened. It wasn't planned.  
> I don't even have the full plot worked out yet.  
> But here it is.
> 
> Self-betaed.

            Stale air filtered through the room as Merlin hunched over his desk, his gaze fixed on the large monitor in front of him. A cramp formed in his fingers from clutching his tea cup. On the screen he had a first-person view of a narrow, non-descript hall. Echoes of gun fire filled the room.

            On an adjacent monitor was a digital blue print. Every now and then Merlin looked over to it, tracking Percival’s and Lancelot’s movements. Heat signatures registered on the screen and Merlin stated unflinchingly, “In coming on your right Lancelot. Percival take the next left.”

            Each sentence was underscored by a deep reverberating thump of his heart, like a hard fist coming down on a steel door.

            Roxy took out the next onslaught of men, while Percival tracked the signal that had drawn them to the facility in the first place.

            It had turned on only twenty-four hours ago. A sudden, inconsequential beeping that had set alight a desperate race to retrieve it. It was as if Merlin had been a ship navigating through darkness and suddenly a beam of light had pierced the veil. He had spilled his tea all down his sweater in his scramble to get to the console and see where the signal was located.

            He didn’t allow himself to consider what it meant that only one signal had appeared instead of two.

            Percival followed the signal deep into the bowels of the building. He cut through anyone that got in his way efficiently, never breaking stride as he headed to the holding cells.

            Merlin had seen his share of cells. All agents and handlers have. It was one of the many hazards of the job. As far as cells went, these weren’t any different from the other ones they’d infiltrated. Slabs of stone walls. Steel doors with only a window and a small hole to slip food through. Dirt and grime and questionable matter on the walls. It was a familiar utilitarian hellscape, and while Merlin had braced himself for it, it still caught him with a sucker punch.

            Six months ago, while on a mission in Bratislava, Slovakia, both Galahad and Bors had gone dark. The last footage they had of the agents had been them struggling with the terrorists they’d been tracking. Merlin immediately launched into a search and extraction attempt. In those first few hours, he’d been too preoccupied with relocating his agents to consider the possibility of what happened. After, when Roxy forced him away from the computers after forty-eight hours straight of being awake, Merlin had fallen into a restless sleep, reliving the memory of watching Harry in Kentucky.

            Had he just watched his two best friends die all over again?

            For the first month he’d been hopeful. He spent every spare moment trying to locate Harry and Eggsy. Their glasses had been taken out immediately, and within hours of them vanishing, their trackers had blinked out.

During the six months they’d been gone, they’d—or at least one of them had—traveled from Bratislava into Kyiv.

Now, while Roxy lead a strike team to take out the cell, Percival went to retrieve who ever had activated the signal. Merlin tried not to think about who it could be—or who he hoped it was—but even as he tried to focus on the now, on simply getting there, guilt ate away at his stomach.

Percival stopped in front of grayish blue door, the paint peeling from it. “This is it,” Percival said.

Merlin made quick work of getting into the system and opening the door. The bolts released with a hiss and Percival opened it.

A blur of motion erupted as someone attacked Percival. While they were slower, Merlin instantly recognized the familiar grace and fluidity of Harry’s attacks. His heart bloomed with relief—only slightly dulled by the guilt of being relieved Harry was alive—and ordered Percival to restrain him.

“Working on it,” Percival grunted, taking a blow to the side.

“Use a dart,” Merlin ordered.

Percival quickly called a knock out dart on his watch and fired it at Harry. He slapped his neck where the minuscule needle stuck out, his eyes widening with realization, before he fell forward into a crumpled heap on the ground.

Merlin could finally get a good look at him. Harry had definitely lost weight within the time that he’d been held captive, and his clothes had been stripped away, leaving him in only tattered and soiled remains of his trousers and button down. There were cuts and bruises, places matted with blood and crusted over, but he wasn’t missing any limbs as far as Merlin could tell.

“Merlin,” Percival said, looking away from Harry when a noise caught his attention. He turned to a darkened corner of the room where a nest of blankets was piled. “Jesus, is that Bors?”

Cowering in the corner, caked in blood and grime, wrapped in bandages, was Eggsy. Percival took a step towards him and Eggsy shrunk back, trying to compress himself even more. Merlin didn’t need to be in the room to know that it was probably flooding with a powerful scent, the defense mechanism omegas used in distress. Being a beta, Percival wouldn’t be as affected as Merlin or Harry, but he still flinched and held up an arm to shield his nose.

Merlin swallowed thickly, the sight of Eggsy hollowing him out. He’d seen agents go through hell. He’d seen them come back from torture. But usually they’re only gone for a few days. If they aren’t rescued, they’re killed. If any had survived, Merlin had never seen them—not until now.

And god, he wished he hadn’t.

He wished Eggsy had died, because the sight of him, completely and utterly broken, filled him with undiluted anguish.

“What did they do to him?” Percival whispered.

“I don’t know,” Merlin murmured. “Dart him. Lancelot is finishing up. I’ll have her come down to you, along with extraction.”

Percival fired a dart at Eggsy, who fell into the blankets. “Merlin… his wounds—”

“I know,” Merlin said, colder than he meant.

“He’s —”

“ _I know_ agent,” Merlin snapped, his gut a nauseating knot that sat heavily in his throat. “I know.”

* * * *

            Harry had always been a light sleeper. It came with the trade. The slightest creak in his house could jolt him awake, gun poised to shoot at the dust floating in the moonlight. In the time they’d been held captive, Harry had gone from being a light sleeper to virtually not sleeping at all. He couldn’t. Not when the risk of something happening to Eggsy was too grand. Every time he wasn’t there—whether physically or mentally—someone came and took Eggsy, ripped him from his arms, and then sent him back a little more broken.

            So, Harry adapted. He learned to catch sleep in fleeting moments, so brief that his system barely had time to pass through a single REM cycle.

            In the beginning, Eggsy tried to coax him to sleep. Those times Harry gave in were the ones that left Eggsy nearly dying in his arms. Eventually they both gave up and accepted that, like every other aspect of their life, this too was stripped away and lost.

            When Harry started to open his eyes, with  a sense of restfulness he hadn’t felt in months, he immediately knew something wasn’t right. He wasn’t on the hard, unforgiving floor, for one. There wasn’t a lingering stench in the air. A combination of bodily fluids, body odor, and the perpetual stench of Eggsy’s defensive omega scent. But most importantly, and alarming, was that there was the distinct absence of a warm body curled against his.

            Harry reached for Eggsy, his arms tethered by tubes and needles. Harry blinked his eyes open completely and looked around the room. Monitors beeped around his bed and tracked his vitals. Beyond the assortment of machines, there wasn’t anyone or anything in the room. It had been stripped bare, or had never had anything to begin with. There was something familiar about it, but Harry couldn’t place his finger, and he couldn’t be arsed to figure it out at the moment. His only concern was locating Eggsy.

            He sat up, testing his body. He’d been in a constant state of aching since their capture. While his physical torture hadn’t come close to the gauntlet Eggsy had been put through, Harry hadn’t escaped unscathed. His limbs were attached, but they’d been broken and sliced, flayed in places, and crushed in others.

            Bandages covered his arms and hands. He could feel the pull of one on his cheek and the tight compression around his chest.

            Without flinching, Harry pulled the IV needles out and ripped them tubing from the bag. He coiled it around his fists, clutching onto the long needle, which dribbled with residual fluid.

            The empty room didn’t give him much to go by other than he’d been taken to a hospital. The only thing he recalled before everything went black was the sound of gunfire and a figure stepping into their cell.

            Rationally, he knew he needed to stop and consider his options. Something had happened, something that had transported him out of the cell. He didn’t know if it meant his plan had worked. If he was in a clearer state of mind, he would have weighed the possibilities. But at the moment all he could think about was finding Eggsy, finding him before something else happened to him. It was the alpha instinct taking over, the hind part of his brain that howled and whined for his omega. All he could think was find, find, find.

            Until he had Eggsy back at his side, nothing else mattered.

            His skin prickled with his rising panic. It was a palpable throb in his chest, like his heart was trying to burst through his ribs. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

            The sudden weight left him shaky and he pressed his arm into the mattress to steady himself. He drew in a deep breath through his nose and glanced at the door. Tension drew across his shoulders and he tightened his grip on the needles.

            Eggsy had to be somewhere in the building.

            Harry didn’t even allow himself to entertain the thought that Eggsy had been killed.

            There would be no mercy if it were true. Harry would be burn it all to the ground.

            Crossing the room was harder than he expected. His legs didn’t want to hold him up and it took a few attempts to stand long enough to walk to the door. As he reached for the knob, the door opened and a man in a white lab coat walked in. He lifted his gaze away from the clipboard he was holding, his eyes widening as he realized Harry stood in front of him.

            “Agent—”

            Harry didn’t give him time to speak. He went for his throat, but stopped himself mid-strike and instead struck him in the temple with his elbow. The man, stunned, dropped his clipboard. As he moved to defend himself, Harry lashed out in a series of devastating blows. He faltered briefly, and the man shouted for help in the few seconds Harry’s body failed him, but Harry quickly recovered and wrapped his arm around the man’s throat, holding the needle to his jugular.

            “Where is he?” Harry demanded.

            The man scrambled to get purchase, his blunted nails scraping against the bandages on Harry’s arm. Harry tightened his grip, pressing his forearm deeper into the man’s throat.

            “Where is he?” Harry repeated with more force.

            “Who?” The man croaked, the single word escaping on a wheeze.

            “You know who,” Harry snarled, rabid with adrenaline and desperation. He was an alpha seeking his omega, and this man stood in his way. “Eggsy. Where is Eggsy?”

            “Harry,” Someone shouted in a familiar brogue from down the hall.

            Harry glanced up, meeting Merlin’s steely gaze. Harry stiffened, the wind knocked out of his lungs.

            No.

            It was a trick.

            It had to be.

            Another fantasy from one of the drugs.

            It wasn’t real.

            Harry hadn’t been able to get the signal out.

            He shook his head, trying to make the mirage of Merlin vanish. “Stay back,” Harry shouted. “Take me to Eggsy.”

            He pressed the needle against the man’s skin. He trembled in Harry’s arms.

            “Okay, we will,” Not-Merlin promised, holding his hands up in surrender. He was surrounded by a group of guards, who all kept their guns trained on Harry. “Just let him go and we’ll take you to see the lad. He’s fine Harry. He’s resting.”

            Harry’s heart stuttered. He needed to see Eggsy. He needed to make sure. His jaw ticked as he focused on the man in his grip. “I let him go when you take me.”

            “I can’t do that Harry. You need to let him go.”

            “As soon as I let him go, you shoot me,” Harry said.

            Merlin made a gesture and the guards lowered their weapons. There was only one exit and Not-Merlin blocked the way. If Harry wanted to reach Eggsy, he needed to get past them.

            Harry looked at the man. Against his better judgement, Harry released him. As soon as the man slipped from his grasp, Harry regretted it. From the corner of his eyes and he watched Not-Merlin lift his arm and touch a watch. A sharp, bee sting struck Harry’s neck before the world went black.

            _Fucking Kingsman._

* * * *

            When Harry woke a second time, he was once more in bed, but with the addition of straps securing him in place. Harry looked around the room, his gaze settling on Merlin, who sat beside him.

            “Where is he?” Harry asked, throat raw and cracked.

            Merlin looked up from his clipboard. “In another room.”

            Harry pulled at the restraints. “Take me to him,” Harry demanded. “I need to be with him.”

            “I can’t allow that,” Merlin said, for the briefest moment his stoic expression replaced with a flash of pain. “Harry, you need to rest. He needs to rest. This is only temporary.”

            “Take me to him,” Harry shouted and pulled harder on his restraints. “You can’t keep him from me.”

            “Dear god man, stop it,” Merlin said, moving to still Harry. “Harry, he’s fine. I swear to you, he’s getting the best care.”

            “No, _no_!” Harry clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face straining as he tried to rip the restraints. He called on every ounce of strength he had in his pathetic body, reaching deep into his gut to harness every alpha instinct he had. The leather and steel held, his body still too weak. “I need to see him—I need—”

            He couldn’t breathe. Dots speckled his vision in a dizzying array of black snow and blinding lights. He shook his head to get rid of it, but it only intensified. He never stopped trying to break the restraints.

            “Eggsy,” Harry called out. “Eggsy!”

            He heard Merlin call for a doctor, but it was distant, like his head was suddenly underwater.

            He didn’t want to go out again. He wanted Eggsy. He needed him.

            Harry lashed out when a large man in a nurse’s uniform arrived. Harry screamed, frustration and fear ripped from his throat in a haunting bellow. A needle was jammed into the side of his neck, cutting off the sound. Harry crumpled to the bed.

* * * *

            Merlin didn’t know what to do. He watched in horror as Caleb, one of the nurses assigned to Harry, injected him. The haunting sound of Harry’s scream echoed in his mind long after Harry fell unconscious.

            It didn’t get easier. For a week, every time Harry woke, he fought his restraints, demanded to see Eggsy.

            Merlin almost gave in. Almost brought Harry to him. But Eggsy was still in intensive care, locked within a hyperbaric oxygen chamber in a medically induced coma in order to combat the infection that had taken a hold of him. If Kingsman hadn’t arrived when they did, Eggsy would have died within a couple days, maybe less.

            The amount of damage done to him was almost beyond repair. On top of cuts and burns, Eggsy had suffered multiple fractures and breaks. There were parts of him that would leave unimaginable scars. But the worst, what sickened Merlin to his core, was the line across his belly.

            Merlin had feared a hysterectomy had been done, but Eggsy still had his organs. After a bit of testing, though, Merlin’s second worst nightmare had been confirmed—Eggsy had been pregnant prior to the mission, and at some point, no doubt from the trauma, he’d had a miscarriage and they’d sloppily cut him open to remove it.

            Until Eggsy woke, Merlin wouldn’t know if Eggsy had known about his pregnancy prior to the mission, or if it had been discovered during their captivity. He wasn’t sure what was worse.

            If Merlin wasn’t so sure taking Harry to see Eggsy would set him off further, Merlin would do it. He would do whatever he could within his power to ease their pain and make all of this easier.

            But he had to consider both Harry’s and Eggsy’s safety, and at the moment Eggsy’s best bet was to remain in ICU.

            Merlin walked into Arthur’s office, his clipboard clutched at his side, the only thing at the moment holding him together. Arthur lifted her gaze from the paperwork she was reviewing and gestured for Merlin to take a seat.

            Beverly Tillman had been handpicked by the committee to take over the position of Arthur. She’d worked for twenty years as the director of MI-5 and had a decorated military background that made her as lethal as she was beautiful. Her fifty-four years were only evident in the sterling color of her hair, which she kept styled in a sophisticated bob around her triangular face.

            Merlin wouldn’t exactly say he liked her—her traditionalist alpha views went against the grain of his own—but he respected her. She was sharp, strong, and she had zero-tolerance for bullshit. After Chester had betrayed Kingsman, they’d floundered for the first six months in the aftermath of Valentine’s Day. When she came in, she was given a pile of shit to work with, and somehow, after two years, she’d managed to polish it into a diamond. Kingsman had rebounded from Chester, rising like a phoenix.

            For that, Merlin would be grateful.

            But Beverly had been the one to call off the search for Harry and Eggsy. When Merlin had originally come to her about the signal appearing, she’d turned down his request to send a team in. It took all of Merlin’s wits and strength to convince her the importance of retrieving their agents.

            Beverly viewed their agents as collateral. Cannon fodder, Merlin thought. Their lives were expendable for the sake of the mission. Perhaps when Beverly first came into office, they needed that kind of grit and calloused leadership, the kind of person who could make the tough calls and not blink. Now, Merlin wasn’t sure.

            But perhaps it was just his personal feelings getting in the way. Would he have been this upset if it had been another agent? Percival and Lancelot, yes. But the others? The ones that weren’t within the circle of people he considered family?

            Merlin hoped he never had to find out.

            “Status report?” Beverly asked.

            “Bors—”

            “Let me remind you that Mr. Unwin and Hart no longer have their codenames. We shelved them when their case closed,” Beverly said, meeting Merlin’s gaze sharply.

            Merlin didn’t flinch. “Apologies,” Merlin said, plainly unapologetic. “Eggsy and Harry are both stable. Harry is still showing signs of aggression and requesting to see Eggsy.”

            “Have you been able to get any information from him about their capture?” Beverly asked.

            “No.” Merlin shook his head. The only thing Harry was interested in was Eggsy.

            “I see,” Beverly said and set down her pen. Her infliction didn’t change, but Merlin could sense the disappointment laced in her words. It was the same tone his mum had used on him as a boy when he failed to live up to her expectations. “We need to find out what Mr. Hart knows. Agents Percival and Lancelot were able to wipe out that cell, but we know that was only one branch of the organization.”

            She typed something on her computer, her stiletto nail clicking against the flat keyboard. “Agent Lancelot located tech that used Valentine’s SIM technology at the base. We need to find out if there’s more, or if this was an isolated occurrence.”

            “I understand,” Merlin said, “But Harry won’t speak. Not until he sees Eggsy, and with the state Eggsy is in, I fear it might set Harry off further. He’s determined to protect Eggsy.”

            “What did Nimue say?”

            “Nimue wasn’t able to get through to him, but she was able to provide a cursory diagnosis.” Merlin lifted his tablet. He sent the report Nimue, their in-house psychologist, had sent him. Harry clearly suffered from PTSD, but Merlin knew it ran deeper than that. It was Harry’s alpha instincts calling out for his omega, his mate. Until they were reunited, it wouldn’t stop. Merlin feared that even then, it would be a struggle—until Eggsy woke, they wouldn’t know the extinct of the psychological damage done.

            “Let me remind you Merlin, that the only reason we haven’t turned former agent Galahad over to Whitehall is because of the information he may have. But if Mr. Hart proves to be more trouble than he’s worth, I will be forced to turn him over and wait until former agent Bors awakens.”

            It wasn’t the first time she’d threatened to send Harry to Whitehall, an asylum run through Kingsman where agents were sent who—quite frankly—cracked. Agents who’d aged out and whose minds had gone soft. Agents who couldn’t cope with some of the missions they’ve had to compete. Agents who fell victim to their targets and came out with scrambled brains.

            Merlin clenched his jaw. “I understand Arthur, but let me remind you that what both agents went through is something none of us have been equipped for, and that it will take time. And separating an alpha from his omega even more will put undue stress on both of them.”

            Merlin would die before he let Harry be sent off there, to be forgotten behind the stone walls. Harry wasn’t mentally flaccid. He hadn’t gone over the deepened. Whatever happened in these last six months wasn’t irreparable; Merlin would see that both of his agents were reinstated, one way or another.

            Beverly tipped her head in consideration, and other than a slight tilt in her hairline, her hair didn’t move. “Time, Merlin, is something we don’t have.” She waved her hand. “Continue to monitor him. You have a month. If he hasn’t cooperated by then he goes to Whitehall, is that clear?”

            “Yes, Arthur,” Merlin said. He stood and left, clutching his tablet even tighter.

            In the time it took for him to reach his office, a tremor formed in his hand. He sealed himself inside and set his tablet down, less he hurled it across the room. Merlin planted his hands flat against his desk, hunched forward so his shoulders were drawn close to his ears, and took in deep breaths.

            Arthur was doing her job. She had to consider the best options for Kingsman and the world, but Merlin couldn’t help but wonder why she was so hard pressed to be rid of Harry. There hadn’t been animosity between them before Harry and Eggsy left on their mission, at least none that Merlin had seen.

            The door slid open and closed. Merlin didn’t look up to see who entered. Only five people had the code to get in. Arthur wouldn’t be chasing after him, and both Eggsy and Harry were in their rooms, so that left only two people.

            A strong hand slid up his spine and came to rest on his shoulder. Without looking, Merlin allowed himself to be turned into the embrace and buried his face into the curve of Percival’s neck. Percival wrapped his arms around Merlin.

            “Everything will be okay,” Percival said, and Merlin wanted to believe it.

            “I’m supposed to know everything, but for the first time, I feel as if I’ve missed something crucial,” Merlin murmured. “She wants to send Harry to Whitehall.”

            Percival hummed and drew Merlin back. Merlin wasn’t a whimsical man. He’d never been someone that let his emotions get the better of him—that was more Harry’s department—and he’d turned his nose to such prosaic fantasy of soulmates.

            But when he’d met Percival, when he’d looked into his infinitely deep brown eyes during the candidacy for Percival, Merlin had understood what all of those love stories had meant. It had been a cosmic explosion in his chest. It didn’t matter that Percival was a beta and would never sire him children.

            “We won’t let her,” Percival promised. “Once Eggsy is awake, everything will be okay.”

            Merlin frowned. Would it? His heart hoped Percival was right, but his gut told him that things would only get worse before they got better.


End file.
